


A Delicate Dance

by The_Bentley



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1920s, Anal Sex, Aziraphale is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Drinking, F/M, Female Crowley (Good Omens), Flirting, Forgiveness, Humiliation, Idiots in Love, Illustrations, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Jealous Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Male Crowley (Good Omens), Possession, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Sex, Smoking, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25464568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: Beelzebub and Hastur release an entity from Hell with the intent of having it possess Aziraphale.  Unknown to them, who have been tricked by it, this newly discovered entity is Desire and it doesn't have any intention of doing what Hell wants.  Instead, it wants to make everyone’s wishes come true - for better or worse - so it can become more powerful.  Aziraphale’s powers are perfect for that.  Crowley must find a way to exorcise Desire from Aziraphale’s body before it causes too much damage.  But it has let out some secrets Aziraphale has been keeping, making angel and demon realize the delicate dance they do when it comes to their own relationship.Illustrations by Kurikukun.  (They're on  on Chapters One, Two and Five since I'm getting questions about them.)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 61
Kudos: 207
Collections: Good Omens Mini Bang





	1. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hell hatches a plan and Heaven sends Aziraphale on a wild goose chase not knowing Crowley has been sent on a sham mission to distract him.

_Boston, Massachusetts, USA, Fall 1929_

It was a quiet night out here in the garden where the music of the jazz band was muted, the refreshing cool air rejuvenating Aziraphale after he fled the crowds and noise of the party inside the grand house. The quiet sound of peepers and crickets was a pleasant change from the loud brass instruments and shouting voices. His head stopped throbbing as he stood out there, sipping the last of the wine in his glass.

A waiter, who was passing by, offered to take his empty glass on his tray. 

“Thank you.” 

Straightening his tux’s bowtie, he looked around for who else happened to be on the patio, searching for clues that something suspicious might be going on. Heaven had caught word of a possible temptation, but last he knew Crowley was on the other side of the world aiding Beelzebub in some scheme.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel our lunches for a while. You know how it can go when the Dark Council votes to send Beelzebub out into the field. I’m the lucky candidate to go with them this time,” Crowley had sighed as he met Aziraphale for one last drink in the bookshop’s backroom before he had to depart. “I’ll probably be gone weeks to Russia. They’re revolting or something.”

That was a week ago, yet here he was on some wild goose chase because Gabriel said Hell had sent Crowley to America to do some tempting on the East Coast. Aziraphale was at his third party this week and thoroughly tired of the social dances done in polite circles as he searched crowds for his rival.

Strolling around the well-manicured garden, he half-heartedly sought Crowley’s identifiable red hair then he saw the tall thin figure in dark colours halfway across the garden from him. She was there in her black flapper dress, the sequins on it glittering in lines and chevrons and her red bob, done in fashionable pin curls, the waves brushing her chin. A group of men surrounded her like she was holding court; one was lighting her cigarette as she flirted with him.

Walking up, he grabbed her arm, eliciting a protest from her current conversation partner. She stared at him from behind her wire-rimmed dark glasses, her now-lit cigarette held frozen in her free hand.

“Who are you?” demanded the man.

“There you are, my dear,” said Aziraphale nodded politely towards the man. “I happen to be her date.” He turned back to her. “We’re leaving.”

Taking a drag off the cigarette, she blew smoke directly in his face. Aziraphale glared at her, tightening his grip on her wrist.

“Say goodbye, Antonia.”

“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Parker, Mr. Burge, you others . . . Oliver . . .” she said in a very passable Bostonian accent, a seductive look given to Oliver, the one who just happened to offer her a light.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. Oliver noticed.

“A pleasure, Miss Crowley. Look me up when you dump the pill.”

“Who said he was my sheik?” she called back to him as she was escorted away.

“Sheik?” whispered Aziraphale.

“Boyfriend. Which you’re definitely not.”

For unknown reasons those words raised the spectre of jealousy in Aziraphale’s chest which he quickly brushed off as ridiculous. They were rivals. Who occasionally fraternized. In the bedroom. It was nothing. He practically dragged her off, but that wasn’t to get her away from Oliver. It really wasn’t.

Looking for a private place they could talk away from the prying ears of humans, he settled on the Bentley, which Crowley had miracled over with her when she came because she refused to be parted from that car. She yanked her wrist out of his grasp as they came to a stop beside her pride and joy.

“That’s no way to treat a lady.”

“You are hardly a lady,” Aziraphale retorted, still stinging from the jealous feelings. “Get in.”

She walked around to the driver’s side. Aziraphale slid into the passenger seat. 

“What are you up to?” 

“Not what people normally do in a parked car, that’s for sure.”

“And what’s that?”

Crowley sighed as she rolled down the window enough to let out smoke. “Never mind. That apparently goes over your head.” 

She went to take another puff on her cigarette, objecting when Aziraphale vanished it. It was her turn to glare at him. 

“That’s a nasty habit.”

“Not like they’re going to kill me.”

“We’re veering off the subject. What are you up to?” 

“My job, of course.”

“Yes, well . . . and it’s clear you wanted to get caught, otherwise you wouldn’t have worn such an identifiable perfume. You always wear that one when female-presenting.”

She gave a coy flip of her bobbed hair. “It’s because I know you like it.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes at Crowley’s trying mood. She sat with a grin on her face, but she never made it easy when she gave him information. It was like she had to make up for snitching by being difficult.

“Will you stop with . . . whatever _this_ is . . .” He waved a hand at all of her. “And just tell me what is going on because it’s obvious you wanted to get my attention. It must be important. You haven’t been in America in about a hundred and fifty years. The last time I even tried to even _talk_ to you about the goings-on over here, you asked me what the Americans managed to ruin this time.”

“But I did have a lovely time at that tea party,” she replied slyly. “Aren’t we getting off the subject again? Look, Hell wants me running around tempting men to invest in the stock market because come next month the market’s going to take a very serious nosedive. The economies of America and Europe are going to suffer.”

“But what can I do about it?”

“Absolutely nothing, this is exactly what I can do. But I do know that Hastur’s hatching some plans to set in motion as soon as chaos starts around here. I don’t have any more information than that, but it’s _got_ to be big. They’re keeping it under wraps and even I can’t get anyone to talk. You need to be on alert.”

“Do you know where?”

“No, but I suspect somewhere in the States. The disaster will be worse here. Better cover for whatever he’s up to. I’ll get you information if and when I get it. Now let’s head out before people think we’re doing stuff.” 

“What stuff?”

“For Hell’s sake, you’re naïve. Sex! It’s not like we don’t occasionally have our little fun.”

“Lunch tomorrow?” Aziraphale asked, ignoring the jab. “There’s a nice café near the hotel where I’m staying.” 

He conjured up a slip of paper with the address of where he was staying and handed it to Crowley. She read it before ungracefully sticking it in her bra. Aziraphale gave a long-suffering look as he got out of the car.

“What? I forgot to bring a purse. I’m not used to all the accessories. Meet you in the lobby tomorrow at noon.”

The Bentley roared to life and Crowley took off at breakneck speed, leaving Aziraphale to find his own way back to his hotel.

~*~*~

_Hell_

“Heaven took the bait,” Hastur told Beelzebub, who nodded in approval. “They’ve sent their field agent off to thwart Crowley in America thinking we’re up to something.” 

“Good. What is your next move?”

“I’m off to London to release it near Soho. That’s where we suspect the angel’s place of operation is. It’ll be close enough. That thing will home in on him when he returns and he’ll be none the wiser a demon was in the area.”

Beelzebub pierced him with an icy gaze. “I do hope you know what you’re doing. If we can get control of the angel Aziraphale, the possibilities are endless. This thing of yours had better work. I pulled Crowley off an important mission in Russia. I’ll be returning there in the morning, myself.”

“It will.” Hastur nodded respectfully before leaving Beelzebub’s office.

He wound his way through the dingy crowded hallways, heading in the direction of the staircase-shaped portal that would take him from Head Office into the lobby of a building in London – Heaven had a lift but it would be a few years before Hell got one. Out on the pavements, the crowds gave him a rather large berth thanks to his overly pale boil-ridden complexion and dirty tattered clothing. Woefully blending into the crowd he tried to slip into, he walked to Soho.

Arriving there in good time, he took in the district with its theatres, nightclubs and underground gay clubs, a decidedly unusual area for an angel to be residing. But their intelligence suggested he had been there since the 1800s when it was a richer district full of the aristocracy. There had been enough sightings of Aziraphale in the area over the years even if they were never able to nail down the exact spot in Soho that was his base of operations.

Crowley had followed him there eventually after Hell decided that their agent having a permanent domicile was better than being transient. There had been heated discussions about Crowley’s choice of London as a residence, but when he had mentioned it was a good idea to keep your enemies close, the Dark Council had agreed with him.

Hastur pulled the small black box out of his threadbare overcoat and opened it, releasing what they had dubbed “The Orb”, a cloudy ball of yellowish light that had surprisingly popped one day into the middle of a crowded room full of curious demons. It had immediately possessed a rather weak demon in the room, and after several minutes of struggling to get it out, they discovered it would listen to Hastur. Why, no demon had a clue, but they hatched their plan soon after that.

If they could get this thing to possess Aziraphale, they would have a tidy advantage in the war to collect the most souls possible, and it wouldn’t really take much effort. All they would have to do was prevent him from completing the missions Gabriel assigned to him and make sure he remained inactive while Crowley was spreading discord and dissent. All it would require was remaining stealthy about the whole subterfuge so Heaven didn’t suspect a thing. And then when he got recalled because of bad behaviour, the real fun could begin . . .

~*~*~

_Boston_

“I thought we were going to meet in the lobby,” whispered Aziraphale in Crowley’s ear.

Crowley pressed even closer, his hands drawing Aziraphale’s hips against his own as they stood in Aziraphale’s room.

“Lobby’s boring,” Crowley replied. “Nothing going on there. But there's plenty going on _here_ ," Crowley replied, pointedly grinding his hips against Aziraphale and smirking at the breathy noise he made in response. Crowley looked around suddenly a touch paranoid. “I know they keep tabs on you when you’re on a mission. Can we do this? Is anyone going to suddenly pop in on you?”

He had parked the Bentley quite a distance from the hotel just to be safe, keeping his fedora over his identifiable red hair as he made for the lobby doors. Luckily his lot didn’t go for personal appearances, instead communicating by memo and through electronic devices.

“No. Nobody. Gabriel checked in two nights ago. He won’t again since I’m due back soon.” Aziraphale reached a hand up to run his fingers through Crowley’s short red hair, grabbing a handful of it in the manner that made one demon melt in his hands. Crowley’s knees buckled slightly as he softly hissed in a pleased manner.

“I did _not_ like the games you were playing last night,” Aziraphale said in a firm voice, the jealous fire lighting once again in his chest. “Flirting with humans, Crowley, really? Without a thought to me? You owe me an apology.”

Aziraphale hadn’t ever cared before about his flirting, with humans or not, leaving Crowley rather confused. He whimpered as Aziraphale tightened his grip causing his scalp to ache as his hair was pulled. 

“I’m sorry, angel. But I did have a job to do.” Crowley begged for forgiveness through worship as Aziraphale loosened his grip – nuzzling, kissing, caressing and gently nibbling any flesh he could reach.

Aziraphale reached forward to give him the barest of kisses on the lips while running a finger down his slim-fitting black suit jacket with dark grey pinstriping. It vanished, leaving Crowley in his matching waistcoat, lighter grey shirt and black tie. Aziraphale had yet to shed a stitch of his light beige suit or tartan bow tie, but soon Crowley was left wearing nothing.

Aziraphale stepped away to gaze at him, Crowley’s excitement very evident in his dilated pupils and immediate responses. He circled Crowley's naked form, giving him a once over, grazing a finger of this body part or that, giving a caress or light scratching here and there causing breathy moans to escape his throat.

“Look at you. You are a vision, aren’t you?” He gently combed a soft hand through Crowley’s red hair as Crowley half-closed his eyes, the jealousy bubbling to the surface. Aziraphale started to unbutton his shirt, but changed his mind, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers instead. “Well?” he demanded, staring down at Crowley, whom he had pushed firmly to his knees before him.

A single eyebrow rising with a mischievous look, Crowley brought Aziraphale’s cock to his mouth, flicking out his tongue to taste it. Sensuously, he lightly ran his teeth over the head, kissing the very tip of it before licking the underside of it then on to the bottom of the shaft to run his long tongue over it, covering every portion of it, sucking leisurely before pulling back to Aziraphale’s frown of displeasure. Taking the head back into his mouth Crowley gave it the same maddening treatment, knowing the combination was one that drove Aziraphale into mindless throes of ecstasy. Finally, he lazily bobbed his head, licking so every centimetre of skin was touched by his tongue until Aziraphale pulled out of his mouth.

“On the bed,” said Aziraphale in a tone thick with longing. “Hands and knees.” 

With feelings of jealousy and hurt still in control, he vowed to keep everything impersonal. Aziraphale didn’t want love to come into this. It was strictly sex and nothing else, no emotions. Crowley deserved that for flirting like he had. He kept his distance, refusing to kneel beside Crowley where he could leave kisses on his back while he teased like he usually did when he had Crowley before him like this.

“You’re all exposed and vulnerable. You always find that a bit mortifying, don’t you?” Aziraphale settled behind Crowley on the mattress, one hand brushing over his bum and trailing down towards the glistening slit below. He touched Crowley in ways that made him mew softly in response, hands clutching at the bed covers as Aziraphale’s fingers rubbed over his clit. He had control over Crowley and was relishing it. Let’s see how Crowley enjoyed someone deciding if and when he any received pleasure. 

His fingers ran over soft skin and folds moving further down where he drew circles around Crowley’s entrance as Crowley vocalized his pleasure at such actions, despite knowing Aziraphale was unhappy with him. Crowley bit his lower lip in anticipation. Slowly Aziraphale inserted a finger, massaging it quite roughly. His other hand pressed down on Crowley‘s back to keep him from moving. 

Aziraphale wanted him to feel used. Humiliated. Placing his free hand on his chin, he pulled Crowley’s head around, forcing him to look over his shoulder at him, twisting his neck uncomfortably, even for Crowley.

“I wish you had just come talked to me instead of playing those little games. I don’t _like_ that you were flirting. You said you only wanted me.”

“Was just . . .” panted Crowley as Aziraphale let go of him, allowing him to return to a less awkward position.

“No,” Aziraphale interrupted. “I put up with a lot from you but not this time. ‘He’s a _demon_ ,’ I tell myself when you act up. ‘He’s _supposed_ to be like that.’ But this _hurt_ , Crowley.”

Slipping another finger in Crowley, Aziraphale curled both around his public bone, seeking out the sweet spot that always drove Crowley mad. Finding it and settling in to massage it, Aziraphale briefly considered allowing Crowley an orgasm as he watched Crowley scrabble at the sheets in response. He decided against that. Let him suffer a bit. Aziraphale deliberately continued at the teasing pace he had set. His lips turned up with a small smile as he watched Crowley close his eyes in his struggle to beat Aziraphale at his own game and come. Crowley wiggled around, canting his hips upwards and shifting positions as much as he could with the weight of Aziraphale’s hand on his back to no avail. 

Crowley, realizing he wasn’t going to win this round, instead settled in to at least enjoy the heightened sensations of lustful yearning. He knew what his partner was up to even if he didn’t exactly understand the sudden change in opinion about on-the-job flirting. That didn’t mean he couldn’t glean some fun from it even if Aziraphale was going to treat him like a sex toy. He leaned into the fingering, moaning loudly. Then everything was still. Aziraphale didn’t draw his fingers out, but he wasn’t continuing, either.

“No. This isn’t right. This isn’t _me_.” Aziraphale was ashamed of his treatment of Crowley. 

Crowley, confused even further, felt him withdraw. Gazing over his shoulder, he watched curiously as Aziraphale undressed and lay on top of him, bare against bare skin. Soft angelic curls tickled between his shoulder blades as Aziraphale’s arms wrapped around his chest. Gentle lips touched his back.

“I’m sorry . . . and I forgive you,” he said and shifted to put his hands on Crowley’s hips so he could enter him in other ways. Lovingly. Not with the intent to tease or humiliate. He had forgotten for a moment what he was. An angel.

He coupled with Crowley, mind, body and soul. As he moved within him, Aziraphale was one with his adversary, his friend, his love. He made sure this time to keep it gentle; touching, kissing the nape of Crowley’s neck, banishing all feelings of anger and jealousy. Angels didn’t get jealous, especially over demons flirting for reasons of temptation. They both had their jobs to do; those had to come first, no matter what they felt towards each other.

He rose up further and put both hands on Crowley’s back, increasing his thrusts, making them long and passionate as he brought them both to orgasm. Beneath him, Crowley cried out in lust-filled excitement as he climaxed, Aziraphale soaking up his reaction as he came himself. 

Crowley felt his angel collapse onto his back and carefully coaxed him onto the bed where he wrapped his body around him as much as this human form allowed. He petted Aziraphale’s hair until his breathing calmed, whispering soothing nothings as he did so, gently banishing the last of Aziraphale's mixed emotions.

"You didn't need to say that, angel. I'm not exactly forgivable," Crowley said softly under his breath as he lay there, quietly calming down after the roller coaster of emotions this had turned into.

He wasn’t sure Aziraphale heard him, and was glad for it. With a sigh Crowley snuggled up to him and pulled the blankets around them even tighter. Aziraphale scooted in closer, planting a kiss on his shoulder knowing that Crowley would probably settle in for a nap. He’d lie here contentedly with him as long as he slept even if he didn’t himself. The only problem with that was the jealousy once again rose to the surface, circling around in his mind like so many sharks, predatory and dangerous.

A tear slipped down his cheek. No, he couldn’t be upset over Crowley doing his job, nor could he love Crowley as much as he did. Wiping it away, he buried his face in the pillow and tried with difficulty to enjoy what they could have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is how I envision gender when it comes to the supernatural beings in Good Omens, including Aziraphale and Crowley. They don’t have it in my headcanon. It’s not something they were created with or even truly need. Even though Crowley and Aziraphale are interacting with human society, they’re really not that immersed in it for all their humanity. I believe they don’t have anything more than the shallowest of understandings about gender. After all, they weren’t born and raised in human society in human bodies with human brains full of all kinds of human concepts whether those concepts are biological or constructed. In my headcanon they know there are different genders, that most people who look male identify with male pronouns and the same for people who look female. Therefore, they follow that example. If they’re presenting male, they use male pronouns and if female-presenting, use female pronouns. It doesn’t mean they are truly male or female or even think of themselves as that particular gender. 
> 
> And maybe with the greater acceptance of those who do not fit into the binary genders, these two will decide to shake it up one of these days and use less traditional pronouns. 
> 
> Also in my headcanon, presenting male, for example, means little more than “My hairstyle is one favoured by men and I’m wearing masculine clothes” to them. What’s going on under those clothes might not come close to matching what mainstream heteronormative society believes a male body should look like. When you have the option of mix-and-match body parts and your thinking isn’t limited to “this belongs on a man while that belongs on a woman,” the world is your oyster. I take a bit of that into this story by having a male-presenting Crowley with a vagina in Chapter One.
> 
> As for the pronouns of the entity, I decided to stick with “it”. I want to portray that entity as a primal thing just starting to get the feel of being in existence. It doesn’t have a personality yet or anything more than a single goal. It needs to gain the depth a personality gives a being before it decides if it is going to take on other pronouns and how it’s going to choose to present.


	2. The Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Orb released by Hell sniffs out Aziraphale and takes off for Boston. Meanwhile, Crowley and Aziraphale have a date at a speakeasy that goes terribly wrong.

_London, England_

The Orb floated on the edge of Soho unseen, sensing the desire of the passersby on the streets walking by, unaware of the small cloud in their midst. Desire was what it was; desire that became so strong the collective human imagination brought it into being, unfortunately, in the middle of Hell. It had wandered its birthplace for a time, figuring out that it could not penetrate the barriers between planes to get to where the humans lived. Maybe taking on a physical body was the answer it was seeking.

So it found a likely candidate, a low-ranking demon that was all it could possess at the moment – they would be strong enough to get it out, right? – and popped into the room that demon was in, much to the surprise of the small crowd of Hell’s citizens working there. That is where it attracted Hastur’s attention and Hastur attracted its.

It read Hastur carefully, realizing this was a demon in a leadership position. Maybe this one was the ticket out. Someone who could make decisions. When Hastur demanded the thing get out of the demon it had possessed it obeyed, but only because it wanted to see if it could use him instead. It had been a risky move, since it was still a fairly weak entity itself.

Instead, it was captured and as it listened, learned Hastur’s plan to take it to Earth and command it to possess an angel. Being created of human imagination and possessed of human knowledge meant it knew what an angel was – a good being to be a host, given their miracling abilities. If this one lived on Earth, the Orb could utilize the angel’s body to read people’s desires then make them come true. Once it was free, it wouldn’t need Hastur.

Hastur told it to wait for the angel’s return, but it was no longer listening now that it was finally on Earth. It stretched out its mind searching for this promised angel but felt nothing on the island it was on. Nothing but the retreating demon that was strong enough to probably best it, and thus too risky to possess. Reaching out further, it searched for an angel, any angel. It found one across a large body of water and raced at impossible speeds to get to them.

This angel was quite a find, too. The Orb could feel their strong emotions just doing a casual search for celestial energy around the world. Love? Was it love it felt? Forbidden love. And touch of jealousy that the angel was trying to overcome. That pleased it immensely. The more distracted a being was, the easier it would be to take over. Skipping across the ocean between it and them, it landed in a harbour city and began the more difficult task of sniffing it out in this town of millions.

~*~*~

_Boston_

Aziraphale was really unsure of their choice of restaurant for dinner that evening for its entrance was hidden and Crowley had to whisper a password to an attendant inside before he opened the door to them. Nervously, Aziraphale followed her inside. A hostess cheerfully greeted them before showing them to a table at Crowley’s request.

The place was brightly lit with one side of the large room filled with tables and a bar. The other side had a stage where a jazz band played and a floor that was covered with dancers. Those not dancing were enjoying cocktails and finger foods around the bar or seated at tables eating the Italian cuisine the place served. The faint buzz of conversation that floated above the lively music was almost drowned out by the loud brass instruments.

“But they serve alcohol!” hissed Aziraphale, whom Crowley had convinced to wear a handsome light grey suit with a blue bowtie out instead of his usual beige-with-tartan look.

Crowley had dressed in a dark red flapper dress covered in an intricate art deco design of black and silver beading. She had accessorized with a long string of pearls and a black fur wrap to keep out the chilly autumn air. Her bob was again pin curled with waves near her temple well-placed enough to hide her snake tattoo. Flappers may have pushed the boundaries of fashion, but tattoos on women were still rare.

“I’m well aware of that, angel.”

“Alcohol is prohibited in the States. Drinking it would be breaking the law,” Aziraphale replied primly.

“Live a little! It’s only illegal if you get caught. Not like you don’t do the occasional tempting for me, oh pure one.” Crowley smirked.

Aziraphale crossed his arms, huffing in reply.

A waitress arrived to hand them menus that they discovered contained a variety of Italian dishes. Crowley got up as she left. “I’ll go get us cocktails; you order dinner. I’ll have whatever you’re having. Want to try a Gin Rickey? I hear they’re berries.”

“Berries? But you said it was gin,” said the confused angel.

“No, no. Not the drink . . . ok, the drink is berries, but not the ingredients. ‘Berries’ means it’s good.”

“Oh. The language over here leaves much to be desired.”

Crowley returned around ten minutes later with two glasses containing lime slices floating in a gin-based concoction. She handed one to Aziraphale.

“Hair of the dog that bit you.” She raised her glass to him.

They drank their cocktails which Aziraphale found rather delicious despite his initial reservations. Crowley inquired about dinner and Aziraphale replied he had ordered them lasagna with a red wine. While they waited, they exchanged stories about their recent missions – Crowley filled Aziraphale in on Hell’s meddling in the Russian government while Aziraphale lamented about the number of parties he had had to attend before he found Crowley. When their meal finally did arrive, they discovered the Italian cuisine had not been too Americanized yet; it still had the wonderful flavours of the food they were used to getting in Italy. Crowley rather enjoyed it, but her dinner partner had a minor issue with the spices in the marinara sauce. 

The wine was another story because it was obviously not a vintage that came from a reputable vintner, preferably one in a celebrated wine-making region of France.

“This is rather vinegary,” commented Aziraphale upon tasting it, his upturned nose wrinkling with the sip he took.

Reaching across the table, Crowley touched the edge of his glass, changing it to one of his favourite vintages. Aziraphale gave her one of his brightest smiles that made her almost melt right in front of him. She swore sometimes she kept doing things for him just to see that smile.

“It’s homemade wine, angel. You can’t expect excellence out of it. Good thing I can make it perfect.” She grinned back at him.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“What?”

“Why are you female-presenting again?”

She shrugged. “Nobody in Soho gives a damn if you’re out alone with a member of your own gender, except the bobbies, so two male-shaped beings blend right in. Here in America? They don’t care too much in New York City, but in Boston, I don’t know. It’s just easier if we look heterosexual.” Crowley paused, looking down with a bit of a blush. “Besides, I like the dresses.”

They continued their conversation unaware of the danger that had just passed through the door of the speakeasy, catching the unmistakable scent of angel. It crept closer, getting a whiff of another being in the area, one that had herself so tightly shielded the only information Desire could register was this being was not on the same side as the angel with whom she dined. It was intrigued, but not enough to take its focus off the known, the angel who sat talking with her. It waited for the right moment to strike, the beings at the table unaware it was lurking nearby.

“I’ll go get us some more wine,” the angel’s companion said as she scooted her chair out. 

She left, the beads on her dress flashing in the light with the sway of her hips as she walked. The angel watched her go, giving Desire an opening. Gliding up stealthily to avoid detection, it quickly struck. 

Aziraphale felt it as it shot into his body straight into his mind before he could react to the attack. He always lightly shielded to keep the leakage of angelic energy at a level undetectable to humans but never bothered with any more than that since the one demon he dealt with was well aware of his presence (plus angels and demons were always aware of each other on some level anyway, so he did not see the point in overdoing it). Now he was regretting he didn’t shield as much as Crowley wanted him to. Leaning forward with his hands at his temples, he fought it, waging a battle inside his own head to oust the strange entity trying to take over his body. Sweat poured down off his forehead with his efforts. Occasionally his lip twitched with the mental effort.

He tried to evict it, but that was proving unsuccessful. His preoccupation with trying to find solutions to his bout of jealousy had left him too distracted to react effectively. He knew he was losing. Hastily, he tried to conjure up some stronger shields to keep the entity from taking over his mind, but his attempts were shoddy thanks to his panic. It could shatter them as quickly as he put them up. He was losing ground, slowly being backed into a corner with no escape. Desperate he threw everything he had at the creature, but the action did not gain him any ground. He was left weaker from the drain of mental power. Weak enough now for the intruder to get the upper hand and keep it. Finally Desire was able to completely overcome him, tossing him into a corner of his own mind and shutting him in with a triumphant laugh.

With effort he opened his mouth but found he couldn’t speak now that the entity was hooking into every system in his body. It moved from body part to body part, ripping control of them away from him, from his ability to move his limbs to every one of his senses. It was so thorough that within a few minutes he found he could no longer perform even the smallest of actions or functions. Carefully he wiggled his way partially back into his own senses, hoping it didn’t detect him. If he was stealthy about it, he might be able to take control back long enough to somehow warn Crowley.

“Aziraphale? What’s wrong? Are you ok?” Crowley’s voice seemed so far off. 

“I felt a little ill for a moment.” 

“Ill? We don’t get ill. Are you feeling drunk?”

Wild eyes looked up at her. 

“Soooo many desires . . .” It was Aziraphale’s voice, but that was not Aziraphale talking. “So many of them centered on you and so repressed because of duty. He does love you, you know.” 

Crowley froze, realizing now what was going on. That wasn’t Aziraphale in there. Fear for him set in, but Crowley attempted not to show it.

“Who are you and what did you do to Aziraphale?”

Desire looked at Crowley through eyes glowing an unnatural shade of electric blue. “He’s still here. Just subdued in a corner of his own mind. _Crowley, run!_ I need a body because it’s hard to help people realize their greatest desires without one.” It laughed at him, twisting Aziraphale’s kind face into something hard. “And an angel’s power will be very useful for that. _Please, Crowley, run!_ ”

The thing didn’t seem to notice Aziraphale was getting a few words in. Crowley put on her best poker face, determined not to give that piece of information away. She pushed her chair back until she almost collided with the diner behind her while Desire made Aziraphale climb out of his own onto the table. Dishes crashed to the floor. 

The neighboring tables started to notice his odd behaviour. Crowley hoped they just assumed he was extremely intoxicated.

“Oh, he wants so much more. I’m thinking it’s mutual since I’ve seen his memories. I know what you two have been up to. I could show you the uninhibited version of him. Allow me? Please? Drive us back to his hotel room and I can do _such_ things with you. You won’t regret it.”

“I already do,” said Crowley, leaping from her seat. “Oh my God! He’s a copper! Run for it!

Her voice carried easily to nearby tables. Diners abandoned their dinners, tipping over chairs in their haste to reach the doors. Word spread through the place like a fire and soon everyone was stampeding for the exits. The speakeasy was reduced to pandemonium which was exactly what Crowley wanted. The confusion enabled her to disappear with the Bentley directly back to London. Meanwhile Desire searched for her in the panicked crowds, hampered by the sudden rush of people stampeding out before it. It slammed its way through bodies and out the door. Looking around through Aziraphale’s eyes, it saw no sign of her or the car it knew they had driven here.

But it didn’t worry any further about her, having gained its prize. Stalking off, Desire rummaged through Aziraphale’s recent memories, obtained his hotel’s address and used his abilities to get it back there instantly. 

Meanwhile Crowley was back in her flat’s living room, which was decorated in monochromatic shades of art deco furniture, where she paced the floor trying to banish the fear and anxiety roaring around her mind so she could actually think. Suddenly she stopped to gaze at herself in the framed mirror above the couch, staring at the feminine face looking back at her. 

She had to keep the thing off her scent until she could figure out how to rescue Aziraphale, who was right to tell her to flee. It could not find out she was technically more powerful than Aziraphale if it was searching for a supernatural being so it could exploit their powers for its own gain. When she was an angel, she was several ranks above Principality. Snapping her fingers, she returned to her male-presenting form, ridding herself of her dress and feminine features.

Crowley was back in his black pinstripe suit. Removing the jacket, he laid it on a nearby chair. The change would only throw it off temporarily since the entity had access to Aziraphale’s memories, but it was breathing room if it decided to come after him. With a sigh, he calmed his mind and planned his next move. 

That involved contacting Hell to tell them he had encountered Heaven’s possessed field agent. It was risky letting on he had come face-to-face with Aziraphale, but he needed information and he needed it _now_. They had to be involved on some level. They just had to. He would eat his expensive fedora if they hadn’t either released that thing on purpose or neglectfully allowed its escape from one of the Circles that held the worst creatures to live in Hell.

Gathering the needed courage, he did something unusual for him and plotted out exactly what he was going to say. 

~*~*~

_Boston_

Desire had just had the most wonderful conversation with the concierge of Aziraphale’s hotel, an underpaid man with expensive tastes. It was rather easy to convince him that his desire for more money could be met by raiding the cashbox. Nobody would notice if he skimmed a little off the top now and again, right? It poured some of Aziraphale’s power into the suggestion so the man really had no choice; he would steal. It only cared about making dreams come true, not the consequences. 

Desire was fueled by belief. The more humans who believed desires could be fulfilled, dreams could come true and goals could be met, the more it would grow in strength. If it fulfilled those wants, it would keep humans believing. That would provide it with the fuel it needed to survive and eventually having the power needed to sustain its own body. No more borrowing.

This was the tempting Crowley performed taken to dangerous levels. Crowley kept things somewhat harmless and humans always had a choice to give in to the temping or resist. Not so with Desire. It was not beholden to the rules that required demons and angels alike to work within the confines of free will.

It had spent the night in Aziraphale’s room wondering what people saw in sleep and when morning came, it left to find susceptible humans. It found plenty while walking the pavements wearing Aziraphale’s body. A woman who desired the diamond ring in the jeweler’s window. (She bought it.) The man who wanted to punch his neighbour for letting his dog uses his garden as a bathroom. (He went home with some aggressive ideas.) The latent arsonist who desperately wanted to set something aflame, but hadn’t yet for fear of getting caught. (An abandoned building would soon burn.) 

It walked on, smiling to itself. With this angel’s ability to miracle, the world was its oyster. There would be no stopping it now, especially since it found it could hide its use of Aziraphale’s power by filtering it through its own spirit. Heaven would never catch on to the abuse of power and never know their field agent had been possessed. Desire would just have to carefully keep doing the assignments given to Aziraphale as part of its cover. 

Yet it paused. This angel could be useful, but he was not as strong as a supernatural being could be. What about the other one in the speakeasy last night? Why was she so tightly shielded? What was she hiding? Was she stronger? A stronger being would be so much better at forcing people to give in to their desires; some could still resist the Principality’s miracles. If Desire could grow in power, get its hands on the other one _and_ she proved stronger, there would be no more resistance. Now wasn’t that a nice thought? 

Its goal felt almost within its grasp. It wouldn’t be long before it had its own body if this worked out.

Finding an empty seat on the patio of some café, it rummaged through Aziraphale’s memories looking up this entity, combing for needed information. There! That was entirely too easy. The entity was a demon named Crowley who usually presented male, but sometimes presented female. They were always a tall thin redhead who wore sunglasses even when they weren’t needed. Oh, they were hiding serpentine eyes. No wonder. It had learned Hell was a zoo, so it was not surprised to find this one had a snake form. Their animal form was not important. It only needed their human-shaped one.

It paused in its search of Aziraphale’s memories to wonder why an angel, of all beings, was attracted to a demon, and vice versa. Shouldn’t those two be mortal enemies? Wasn’t that the point of the two sides?

Well, that was a matter of no consequence, beyond being alert to a possible rescue attempt. It was only interested in its goal. Pondering the relationship between those two didn’t get Desire any closer to getting its own body.

Rooting around a little longer, it found an address of a flat in London. Desire, suddenly impatient and power-hungry, decided to return there to find this “Crowley”. No. That might not be the best idea and it needed to think carefully, not run off half-cocked after a possible better body with no real knowledge if the demon was actually more powerful. It might be wiser to stay in Boston for the time being. First, it had no idea where the demon had fled to last night. Second, Crowley might know it was after them. Third, it had possessed the demon’s lover and it suspected they wouldn’t allow that state of affairs to continue for long without attempting a rescue. Right now observation to determine Crowley’s power levels was required. But in the meantime, making itself stronger before it potentially confronted Crowley was the best idea.


	3. The Possesssion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hell orders Crowley to get the Orb out of Aziraphale before Heaven finds out. Michael heads to Earth after discussing with Gabriel Aziraphale's failure to return to London after his mission.

_Hell_

“What do you mean you lost control of it?” demanded Beelzebub, pounding their desk in anger. They had risen to their feet, the news was so upsetting.

Hastur stood before them shrugging in barely-contained frustration. “I don’t know! It left and I think it hunted down the angel Aziraphale to possess him instead of waiting like I asked. It hasn’t responded to me and Aziraphale hasn’t been seen in Soho since I released the Orb. Crowley’s back in London. I reckon he should have come back, too.”

“This is just great. Best idea we’ve had in a long time and you screw it up. Get a hold of Crowley. He’s going to have to figure out a way to destroy that thing because we can’t be associated with a noticeably possessed angel. If he’s up there chasing that angel around, it’s business as usual. If we are, it’s a declaration of war.” Beelzebub leaned on their desk rubbing their temples in hopes of relieving the sudden onset of a massive headache.

“I’m on it.” Hastur walked out to go write Crowley a memo, determined to save his own skin, even if it meant throwing Crowley to wolves.

~*~*~

_London_

The familiar popping noise let Crowley know that he had mail from Hell, distracting him from his decision to ask them a few questions. What were they playing at? Another mission? He had an angel to rescue yet again; a mission now was out of the question. Groaning, he went to pick it up from the desk in his office where such memos always appeared. This turned out to be one he’d rather not have read.

_The angel Aziraphale has been possessed by some kind of spirit. Fix it. If I have to come up there and do it, it’ll be considered an act of war by Heaven. Get it done as soon as possible. We cannot afford to have them hear about this. -H_

Crowley’s temper reached the boiling point as he wadded up the memo, the parchment going up in flame there in his hand. So Hell _was_ involved with this somehow. He stalked to his living room, going over to the radio to send a message back. The latest model – a piece of finely polished wood with Bakelite knobs and a large speaker – was sitting on a table in the corner. It would be nice if Hell would get the hang of telephones, but that seemed unlikely. Bending over the speaker after he turned it on, he spoke.

“Demon Crowley calling.”

“ _Hello, Demon Crowley. What can I do for you?_ ” replied a voice that sounded like it would rather be doing anything other than helping him out.

“Yeah, I’d like to speak to Duke Hastur.”

“ _I’ll see if he’s available._ ”

He was put on hold, the radio returning to the male voice delivering London’s latest news while whoever answered his message Downstairs searched out Hastur. Twisting the tuning knob, he found some decent enough jazz music to pass the time while he waited.

“ _What, Crowley?_ ”

“Duke Hastur . . . got your memo. I have a question or three. How much involvement does Hell have in the angel Aziraphale’s possession? What is this thing I’m trying to get out of him? And could it, by chance, discorporate me?”

“ _It’s a slightly sentient spirit of some kind. That’s all we know. Just get on with it and if it discorporates you, I promise you a new body without hassle from the Department of Requisitions. I’ll put it in writing and send it up. Get on it._ ”

“I’ll wait right here until I get that. Then I’ll get on with figuring out how to exorcise that spirit from Aziraphale without Heaven knowing.” He might as well get something out of this; they owed him at least a consolation prize. Besides, he had no idea what he was up against; he might need it.

“ _You’re bordering on insolence, Crowley,_ ” growled Hastur, not pleased that Crowley hadn’t swanned off immediately to handle the problem. “ _Now get on it._ ”

Something instantaneously popped up beside the radio and Hastur cut the connection. Opening the scroll Crowley saw it was exactly what Hastur had promised. Vanishing it to a bubble dimension where he could easily reach it if needed, his lip involuntarily curled up in a sneer. Liar. Something was up and they were keeping him in the dark.

He collapsed into his usual slouching posture on the couch to fume over the situation before he was able to tamp down his temper enough to think properly.

~*~*~

_Boston_

Aziraphale was trapped, crouching in the corner of his mind that Desire had put him in. He had poked at every possible wall in the place looking for just one weak portion that would allow him to exit back into his body where he could hopefully expel the intruder. So far nothing. Feeling useless, he sat down to think after extinguishing the soft light he had created, causing darkness to fill his prison once again. Nothing came to him. All his consciousness could think about was Crowley. Was she safe? He hoped she had escaped before Desire realized she was a demon and how much her powers could aid in its attempts to make humans act upon their dreams.

Getting up he reconnected to his senses, watching out his own eyes as Desire wandered through Boston looking for the unwary whose minds literally screamed their dreams. He looked on helplessly while humans were hit with miracles that forced them to pursue their greatest desires. His predicament seemed impossible to get out of alone, leaving him with a sinking feeling that quickly grew into self-pity. 

_Well, this is a fine mess I’ve gotten myself into. I’m stuck and Crowley needs to stay away. It might want a demon more than an angel. Now what?_

He could do nothing except occasionally get a word in edgewise. That didn’t mean much. True, the ability had helped Crowley when it came to her escape, but he couldn’t exactly shout himself free. If they encountered Crowley again, should he risk yelling for help? Or would it be better to tell her to just stay away?

_I have to figure a way out of this mess. I can’t leave it up to Crowley._

Duty dictated he make the attempt as it wasn’t very angelic to simply give up and allow an evil entity free rein – duty and Crowley, who deserved better than having to save him once again. Resolve hit him once more. He miracled up another soft light before starting to poke around again, testing every portion of the walls that enclosed him for some kind of crack that would allow escape. Aziraphale would keep trying until eternity ended. He couldn’t stop and he couldn’t let this monster win if he could do even the smallest thing to thwart its wiles. Aziraphale owed Crowley that.

~*~*~

_Heaven_

Gabriel stood in the vast sterile empty white environment that made up Heaven’s Head Offices. Michael stood between him and a small high table, photographs spread out across it showing Aziraphale wandering around Boston. She finished placing the photos and moved out of the way so Gabriel could inspect them.

“Aziraphale checked in and said it was taken care of. He should be home by now, so what’s up?” asked Gabriel.

He looked at the photos carefully, concentrating his gaze on Aziraphale’s face. It was an unfamiliar hard glare, so unlike Aziraphale. Tossing the one he was currently holding back on the pile, he thought a moment while Michael replied.

“We don’t know. I and my team have observed him wandering around Boston like he’s lost or something. As far as we can tell he’s not doing any miracles. I checked the ticker tape on that and he’s not using power at all. I wanted to send a message to ask what is going on, but I can’t get a good fix on him since for some reason there’s too much disruption down there; a large uptick in desires being fulfilled for some reason.”

“Something’s wrong. I want you down there to check it out.”

Michael nodded. “I’m on it.”

She headed out, going to the lift that would take her to Earth. Climbing in, she thought of Boston as she shut the golden metal scissor gate and pushed the button to the first floor. The elevator jerked to life, taking her down. She would exit into the American city and begin her search for Aziraphale. Angels could sense one another, so he shouldn’t be hard to find. 

~*~*~

_Boston_

Desire sniffed the air and smelled angel. A more powerful one than Aziraphale and that worried Desire. It wondered if they were now hunting him down. Was its disguising of his power not enough to trick Heaven? It was worried now because it could not fail on its mission to obtain its own physical form.

Aziraphale’s lips curled up in unfamiliar distain as Desire got angry at that thought. They were not going to take this angel away from it. Rummaging around to discover more about how Aziraphale’s powers worked and doing it quickly, it found out it could shield itself, something it would have to with its own powers to cover the smell of angel. Once that was covered, all the angel here searching would smell would be of a supernatural entity that wasn’t a demon. Hopefully that would be enough to throw the higher-ranking angel off its track as it could not afford to be expelled from Aziraphale's body. With a flick of Aziraphale’s hand, Desire created the needed shield, then moved on, concentrating once again on its work. The clock might very well be ticking now. It needed to get to its goal as quickly as possible before it was discovered by Heaven.

Meanwhile, standing in downtown Boston, Michael tested the metaphysical air, searching for any sign of Aziraphale. It took a while to get her bearings and separate the general static produced by mortal creatures but she locked on to him near the harbour. Clicking her fingers together, she quickly relocated to that area, walking the pavements in search of the Principality. He seemed to just be meandering all over the place with no purpose to his travels. She still sensed no use of powers on his part, which was strange as Aziraphale was one to keep up a steady stream of good deeds. Alarm bells were starting to go off in her head. Not only was this not normal angel behaviour, it was not normal Aziraphale behaviour for all he acted like a human at times.

Suddenly his scent was gone. Vanished as if he just transported out. Maybe he had finally headed back to London to that ridiculous bookshop of his. Michael decided she would do a quick investigation here before heading to his place of operation in London. If he was acting erratically, they would need to know about it and it was possible she could collect clues before the trail ran cold. He had been chasing after that demon so there was always the chance he had been hit with a curse or something else sinister. If that was the case, he’d need to be taken back to Heaven for healing.

Michael didn’t register the scent of a Principality again, but she did pick up on two other metaphysical scents – one of a demon and one of some other supernatural entity. Human-manifested entities were not uncommon, so she didn’t think anything of its presence here. Usually they just went about whatever their jobs were and didn’t interfere in the struggle between Heaven and Hell. 

Ignoring it all together, she returned to attempting to find out if Aziraphale was still in this mess of a city or not. Maybe first she’d pay a visit to that demon and see if he done anything to the Principality. Honing in on the day-old remains of demonic scent, she transported to his hotel room.

~*~*~

_London_

Crowley sat on the couch with his long fingers clenched so tightly in anger they were beginning to cramp. So now what? He had no idea what he was up against, didn’t have Aziraphale to help him out and had to get this done because Hell was breathing down his neck about it. Almost literally.

They _had_ to have something to do with this. They just _had_ to, otherwise how would they be aware about it at all? There was no way Hastur would just _happen_ to know that an angel was possessed unless he was in the thick of it. Head Office didn’t personally pay attention to Aziraphale; it was Crowley’s job to send them the reports that kept them informed of Aziraphale’s good deeds.

Crowley’s temper continued to rise. 

How _dare_ they? How _dare_ they mess with _his_ angel and then leave him to clean up the mess without so much as providing him needed information? How _dare_ they treat him like this? He was not some junior demon to be kept in the dark. He had some rank even if he didn’t possess a title. He deserved to know exactly what was going on around here. Suddenly standing up, he had half a mind to head down to Hell to confront Hastur himself. 

No. 

That was not a good idea unless he wanted to get torn to shreds by an angry Duke, possibly physically and not just in the figurative sense. That would be fun to explain while trying to convince Requisitions to give him a new body, plus leave Aziraphale in harm’s way that much longer. Instead, he took a moment to practice some self-restraint before going back to thinking after he sank back down on the couch. What did he know about the entity that had possessed Aziraphale? Only that it was sinister and Aziraphale didn’t want him around it. It also had access to Aziraphale’s memories and seemed to want to spread desire or something. All-in-all, not enough information. He was going to have to think of a way to defeat it without it harming Aziraphale. His head ached just thinking about it. Now what?

He didn’t quite know what to do, but he was sure it would come to him. Maybe he should head back to Boston to confront it. Maybe that was the best solution. Or maybe it was so imprudent he should come up with something better. But rushing headlong into dangerous situations with little information and even less planning to save a certain angel-in-distress had practically become his second job.

Aziraphale was counting on him because Crowley was all he had right now. He doubted Heaven would lift a finger to help unless it became serious. Given the callous nature of the Archangels, it also left no guarantee they would bother making sure Aziraphale survived the experience. Aziraphale would be expendable in their eyes as he was just their field agent, isolated down on a planet none of them really cared about and considered more forgettable than an integral part of Heaven’s team. It would be considered an unfortunate loss since no angel to date had suffered permanent death, but it would be reasoned away as necessary for the protection of all. 

“It’s up to me,” he murmured, steeling himself for a return to Boston.

It wasn’t too much later he was popping himself and the Bentley into Boston to prowl the streets. Going slowly, much to his own annoyance as well as that of his fellow drivers, he checked tourist areas over and over, searching the crowds for that familiar light beige suit and white blond hair. Not knowing what else to do, he covered the same areas over and over, earning himself the wrong kind of attention.

Police lights flared in the review mirror and in these crowded conditions, he had to play it cool. Convincing them they should be somewhere else was his best bet, he figured, as he watched two of them approach the Bentley. One came up to the passenger window while the other stayed back.

The cop paused for a moment, seeing that the driver was on the wrong side. “Hello, sir. Couldn’t help but notice you’ve been canvassing this area several times in the past hour like you’re casing the joint.”

“I’m just looking for my friend. It seems he’s gotten lost in this big city of yours. I figured since we’re visiting, the tourist areas were my best bet for finding him,” Crowley explained with a wave. He had prepared a mental suggestion to push into the cop’s mind if things got tricky.

“Oh! You’re British! That explains the car. I suggest you check other areas for a while. If you’re up to no good, we’re going to know about it. If you’re looking for your friend, the tourist areas extend mostly west of here. You’ll probably find him there. If not, head to the station to make a report.”

“English, actually, but thank you for the suggestion. I just might take you up on it.”

Crowley rolled up the window and drove off again, this time at the speed limit rather than the slow crawl he had been doing. This was not working. With a sigh, he headed in the direction of Aziraphale’s hotel, parking a couple of blocks away like last time. It was time to confront Desire directly instead of taking himself on a fruitless search through Boston. 

~*~*~

_Hell_

The klaxon sounded, announcing the arrival of an Archangel on Earth. Hell had set up an elaborate system for detecting angels on Earth a few years ago after a high-ranking demon got smote in a struggle with a Dominion. Smiting wouldn’t kill a demon, but it meant that their spirit required extensive healing before it could integrate with a new body. Hell was not interested in reduced productivity. Tempting was hard enough these days when humans were proving they themselves possessed more nastiness than the average demon. It was hard anymore to do evil that wasn’t drowned out by humanity’s increasingly malignant side. All hands were needed on deck, not out of commission while they got themselves sorted back out.

Hastur was in the office with the machine that made the announcement. Looking up at the horn on the wall wailing out the warning, he quieted it before turning to the machine that closely resembled the stock tickers humans used to keep track of stock and gold prices, right down to the ticker tape that sputtered out from between gears and other strange parts as it made its mechanical stuttering noise. The Duke of Hell tore off the strip, read it and cursed.

Leaving the room, he hurried through Head Office’s crowded hallways up to Beelzebub’s office. Reaching it, he nodded to the receptionist who immediately rose to go tell Beelzebub Hastur was here. The receptionist returned in short order and told him to go on in.

“What’s wrong?” Beelzebub asked, looking up from a mountain of unorganized paperwork in front of them.

“This.” Hastur handed over the ticker tape for his superior to read.

“Great. Crowley’s in the area, isn’t he?”

“Yes. I gave him his orders so he’s going to be trying to get the Orb out of the angel Aziraphale. He should have returned to Boston if that’s where his rival still is. I’ll start my search there.”

“Get up there and I’ll get a crew together to join you if you need them. Find out what that Archangel is up to, if Heaven knows the Principality is possessed and keep Crowley from getting smote. Not only does he still have the Dark Council’s favour, nobody else is going to want to take his place while he’s down here healing.”

Hastur left for Boston immediately. 


	4. The Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Heaven and Hell both after Aziraphale, Crowley is running out of time to save him.

_Boston_

Hastur appeared in Crowley’s hotel room which was still made up neatly and only faintly smelled of demon. He had not inhabited it in quite some time. Maybe a day or so. He didn’t expect him to hang around but it was the one lead he had. Unfortunately, he would only be able to reach out to Crowley if he was near some piece of technology he could interrupt. Reaching out to all the radios in area, he found no Crowley to connect to. Dammit. That idiot must be driving around in that stupid car of his. As far as Hastur in his limited knowledge was aware, radios weren’t a thing in vehicles yet. 

(Actually they were, but they were aftermarket monstrosities that covered the car’s roof in an antenna and took up most of the passenger space with the radio itself and the batteries needed to operate it. Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to ride with Crowley if he had one nor he would never cover up any portion of his precious Bentley with something as ugly as a radio antenna.)

“For the sake of all that Almighty loves, this is maddening,” blessed Hastur before hearing a popping sound that broke his concentration as he tried to pick up Crowley’s scent again.

Michael was standing now on the other side of the room, looking intimidating even in the frumpy dropped-waist dress and Mary Janes she was wearing. Hastur immediately conjured up hellfire on one fist. Michael pulled a sword out of thin air, holding it in a defensive position for now. They faced each other in their standoff, not saying a word for several seconds.

Hastur finally spoke. “An Archangel on Earth. What’s the occasion?”

“I could say the same thing about a Duke of Hell.”

Hastur grinned humourlessly. “Lots of tempting here and we all have quotas to meet. The stock market’s due to crash in a month and we might as well take as many people’s fortunes with it as possible. Spread the misery around.”

“Spread all you want. The crash is Heaven’s idea,” said Michael with a satisfied smirk. “This decade has gotten entirely too decadent. Humans need to be retaught humility and restraint.”

“Nice bluff, Michael, but Hell has been working on making this crash happen for years now. I have to hand it to Design and Development for that one. It’s going to be one of our biggest ones this decade.”

Michael looked enraged, her sword raising almost imperceptibly. 

The truth of the matter was that neither Heaven nor Hell were going to be responsible for the stock market crash or the depression that happened as a result of it. The events that led to those disasters lay completely on the shoulders of humanity. 

Michael looked up and sniffed. The entity was now in the hotel room Aziraphale was staying at.

And so was that demon. 

What was going on? Quickly she tried to remember the exact location of it and upon remembering, transported herself over there. Whatever was happening, she was going to put a stop to it, come Heaven or holy water.

Hastur felt Crowley’s presence through the radio. Concentrating on the metaphysical waves he sensed, he located Crowley and headed off to his location with a snap of his fingers. He reappeared in Aziraphale’s hotel in the lobby where he found Michael had appeared moments earlier. Neither had any idea why they had appeared in the lobby rather the room itself. Little did they know the reason for that was Desire was currently occupying it and had figured out how to shield out intruders while it was there. 

The two enemies glowered at each other and made quickly for the stairs with as little fanfare as possible. It would not do to attract the attention of the few humans working or passing through here. Bursting through the doorway onto Aziraphale’s floor, the two ran up against Desire’s shield. Furious Hastur and Michael both threw miracles at it, weakening it to the point that it was fragile enough to break through, but they had wasted precious time chipping away at it. They surged forward in a race down the hallway.

Michael reached the door of Aziraphale’s hotel room first, putting a hand on the doorknob and opening it. Hastur was right on her heels.

~*~*~

Before second thoughts could occur in regards to this foolish idea, Crowley popped into Aziraphale’s hotel room. She was back in her instantly recognizable female form. The room was deserted, looking like it had not been stayed in, but she expected that would be the case. The entity was probably out taking Aziraphale’s body for a test drive. That thought grated on her.

“I’m here!” she announced anyway, sending her message out on several wavelengths perceptible to supernatural entities and hoping no other angels were on Earth right now. “Come and get me!”

She sat down with a copy of the local newspaper to wait, her hands shaking so badly she had to calm herself before she could read a word of it. She didn’t get much reading in before Aziraphale showed up, eyes glowing that unsettling blue. Crowley set aside her paper with a shudder as she stared into those eyes. Getting up, she stood face to face with the entity that had possessed her beloved Aziraphale. 

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I want to know more about you. _Crowley, careful!_ ” it replied, still unaware of Aziraphale getting a sentence in here and there. 

Crowley’s skin crawled as she heard it use Aziraphale’s voice. “That’s kind of what I want, really. I know nothing about you. You just kind of took over my friend here.”

“He was available. So why not? I’ve been having fun using him to expand my belief. My goal is to have my own body soon.”

“Do tell. But using a little Principality? Don’t you want something more powerful to work with?”

“Are you offering yourself?”

“Of course not. I just wanted you to confirm you need an angel or demon’s abilities. Thanks. Soooo, what’s the deal? Are you just a feeble spirit otherwise?”

Aziraphale’s face twisted in rage as the thing became furious. “I am Desire. I was born when the collective human imagination created me but I was born in Hell with no way to escape. The demons gave me a way out. I have a job to do and I’d appreciate it if you’d just stay out of the way. You’ll get him back as soon as I can create my own body.”

“It’s rather rude to just barge in and possess someone like that without even asking. You leave him voluntarily or I’ll evict you.” 

“I’ve had enough talk,” the entity replied coldly. “If you’re just going to stall me, I’ll be on my way. I have so much to do in this town and beyond. _Crowley!_ There’s belief to drum up. Goodbye.”

Desire disappeared again, leaving Crowley with at least a bit more information. Like Hastur _was_ a lying son of a bitch, for example. Of course Hell’s duplicity shouldn’t be surprising. Crowley’s fury would have raised a few more notches if that was possible.

She had to get this thing alone. It was dangerous to allow it to continue to exploit Aziraphale’s powers to grow stronger. Humans had enough on their plates being born into a world that actively worked against them in many small ways. They didn’t need another anthropomorphic personification thrown in the mix. Besides, she was _not_ going to be deprived of her angel while some weak entity borrowed him in order to become stronger.

“Hey, Desire!” she called to the thin air. “I was an angel once! Choirs above Principality! If you want me, come find me!”

She disappeared once again. 

~*~*~

The hotel room door slammed open less than two minutes after Crowley vacated it, Michael wearing a triumphant look on her face with her hand ready to smite. She stood frozen in place, shocked to find that damn demon had made an escape until Hastur ran right into her back. He shoved on past her to pick up the newspaper abandoned beside the chair no more than five minutes earlier.

He hated Crowley with a passion, but that didn’t mean he wanted him out of commission while he healed from a smiting. Breathing a sigh of relief, he smirked at Michael.

“Looks like you got here too slow, sweetheart,” he drawled just to spite her. “And where’s your man, Aziraphale? All I smell here is demon.”

“I assume he’s steps ahead of that stupid snake of yours,” she replied calmly. “I always considered him more clever than your field agent. I assume his thwarting is done and he’s off on his next mission. It just shows there is nothing Hell can do that would go against the Divine Plan.”

She left before he could get in the last word. 

~*~*~

_Heaven_

Gabriel was in his office when Michael returned. She entered looking flustered and he quirked a eyebrow at her.

“Did you find Aziraphale?”

“No, but I did come across Duke Hastur who was also down there. He said to do tempting, but it’s unusual to for a Duke to come to the surface. They leave most of the tempting to the demon Crowley. I don’t buy it. Something is going on with them.”

Gabriel drummed his fingertips on his nearly perfectly clean white desk as he thought before responding. “Aziraphale could have gone to ground with a Duke of Hell in the area plus Crowley. He is only a Principality. Let’s give him a day to turn up and if he doesn’t, we’ll organize a search.”

“Shall I check in with the back channels just to be safe?”

Gabriel gave her a slight smirk. “Why would you say such a thing? We have no back channels.”

“Oh, no.” she replied innocently. “Of course not.”

Taking leave of Gabriel, Michael slipped out to her own office where she kept a sterile white version of a human radio. Turning it on, she bent over the speaker and made her call, waiting for her contact to pick up.

“ _What do you need?_ ”

“I need to know what’s going on in Boston. Our field agent has disappeared and yours along with him. I can’t locate either one there or in London.”

“ _I’m not privy to that information, but that snake has a history of buggering off then just turning up again a century later like it’s no big deal_. _Maybe your man has decided to take a holiday?_ ”

“That’s not like him at all. He’s never once in six thousand years gone on a holiday.”

” _If he’s going as native as ours is, don’t count it out._ _Sorry. I really can’t help you and I need to go._ ” 

The connection was cut. Michael was left standing there listening to static. She sighed heavily and reached over to twist the knob off. Her contact had always been honest with her so she believed him when he said there was nothing he knew. They had a mutually beneficial arrangement going and had for around five hundred years now. She very much doubted he would do something stupid to screw it up.

Well, there was nothing to be done about it unless Aziraphale either showed up or was found in the search they would have to conduct. She wouldn’t have worried about Aziraphale as he was just some bumbling idiot who could easily be replaced if needs be, but Hastur was somehow involved and Crowley was missing, too. If that wasn’t a giant red flag something was afoot, nothing was. Or maybe he did just decide to take some time off. Angels didn’t require holidays, but they also didn’t require food and Aziraphale was known to eat. He also was known to be fond of Earth, only checking in when absolutely necessary before quickly returning there. Maybe he really had taken up the human habit of going on holiday.

She finally decided she had spent enough time on this for now. Sitting down at her desk, she yelled out to her assistant that she didn’t want to be disturbed for the next hour unless it was an emergency. Shutting her door with a thought, she dove into the small pile of paperwork neatly stacked on her desk.

~*~*~

_Hell_

Beelzebub was walking with Hastur who had caught up with them upon his return to Hell. Currently they were heading to a meeting with the Dark Council on unrelated matters and were giving Hastur their ear on the way to the board room. 

“The Principality’s nowhere to be found, but Michael knew nothing about what’s going on.”

“That’s good in part, I guess. Where’s Crowley?”

“I don’t know. He was in Aziraphale’s hotel room, but he left minutes before Michael managed to get there. He probably smelled her coming and took off. I’ll give him another day to get this mess cleaned up, then I’ll contact him again. He’s not going to disappear into the woodwork with a mission on the line. Crowley might be lazy, but he’s not stupid nor a glutton for infernal punishment.”

“I trust that you will solve thizzzz.” Beelzebub’s irritation shown through in the sudden appearance of the buzz in their speech. “I _do_ have thizzzz whole Russian thing still hanging over my head azzzz well.”

Hastur bowed his head in deference, knowing better than to try his luck when the Prince of Hell was annoyed. “I will have a report on my progress for you tomorrow, Lord Beelzebub.”

~*~*~

_England_

Crowley reappeared on a deserted moorland, somewhere in Yorkshire she thought, although it didn’t really matter. The landscape seemed like as good a spot as any for a showdown. A cold wind blew across the heather reminding her she was back in a sleeveless evening dress that provided little warmth. With a wave of her hand she had changed into black knickers tucked into riding boots and a red blouse, covered in a black wool sports jacket. Working quickly, she set miracles to chase off humans and keep them away. This place had to be abandoned; she would not risk human life, demon though she was.

Far away in America, Aziraphale _felt_ something happen. Something big. Something that angered Desire. “Oh, no, Crowley. You didn’t provoke it, did you?” Concentrating, he tapped into his own eyes and panicked at the sight before him. They were on a moor somewhere. Crowley had aggravated it into hunting her down. “No!” 

He saw her walking up to his body, fear filling him. His hands curled into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms so much it hurt despite the body he occupied here in his mind being manifested by his consciousness. Worry for her filled him as he quietly watched the scene unfold.

Crowley stopped before Desire, attempting to appear blasé about facing the _thing_ that possessed Aziraphale. Crossing her arms, she stared at it, thankful she was looking at unfriendly glowing sapphire eyes instead of Aziraphale’s beautiful light blue ones. It helped remind her that she wasn’t dealing with Aziraphale, just an intruder.

“He was so jealous when you flirted at that party and said he wasn’t your boyfriend,” Desire commented. “I’m well aware your relationship cannot be that, but you cut him to the core. Thank you for your careless attitude. His feelings kept him occupied, leaving him off-guard. He might have thrown me off if he had not been distracted and thus vulnerable.”

“Let him go,” snarled Crowley. “I don’t understand why you can’t form a body like the Horsepersons can. Aren’t you the same? You all came from human imagination.”

“I have no symbol like three of them do. They manifest from their symbols; that’s what gives them bodies. Nor do I have an essential job that instills belief in all humans, like the fourth one,” Desire replied. “I’m nothing but a parasite until I’m powerful enough to make my presence known. I will be strong enough one day to create my own physical form and then I will leave your friend. Quit worrying. I won’t harm him.”

That was little comfort. Desire could potentially hold on to Aziraphale for years. Even if taking over someone’s body was acceptable, Heaven’s response if they were to find out remained worrisome. Also, Crowley could not suffer it keeping the being she loved from her. 

She sighed, acutely aware of the role of protector she had taken on the moment she fell in love with that angel. The wind picked up and she pulled her jacket tight against the cold that had found its way in. She suddenly spread her arms wide. “Will I help? I’m more powerful than he is. You’ll get to your goal faster.”

“How do I know that? _No! Don’t do it, Crowley!_ I’ve never seen anyone so well-shielded.” Aziraphale’s body was now circling her in a predatory manner that was extremely contrary to Aziraphale’s traits. “You need to drop them so I can have proof.”

Crowley swallowed, feeling very much like prey now. She had little clue what she was doing, but _something_ had to be done. In her mind was the rough sketch of a plan, but what if she just ended up handing Desire a new body and more power for its goals? The terror began to ominously rise but she closed her eyes, shoving it back down with effort. She could not have that crawling to the surface now when her nerves needed to be ones of steel. No, stronger than that, even. Titanium. She pulled her shields down the tiniest bit, just enough to give Desire a glimpse. 

Trapped in his prison, Aziraphale’s metaphorical breath caught. “Please tell me Crowley isn’t sacrificing herself for me,” he muttered, fearful for his demon. “Stop, Crowley! Please don’t . . .”

“Why do you keep yourself so tightly shielded?”

Crowley swallowed hard. She did not want to reveal in Aziraphale’s presence the reason she kept a tight lid on everything mentally. Oh well . . . “Because I seal it all away – the residual energy from when I was an angel, the memories, the pain of a Fall I took thousands of years ago. He doesn’t need to see that. All that matters is what I am now.”

Aziraphale heard those words, knowing how hard it must have been for her to say them and felt the hurt they contained. He had no idea how much trauma Crowley still carried from her Fall. Lacking a physical form, he could not cry, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t sense nonexistent tears forming. “Oh, my dearest love . . . If only my forgiveness was enough . . .” 

Desire, using his body, was next to Crowley, caressing her gently with fingers that traced along the side of her face then down the sleeve of her woolen jacket. Aziraphale knew her eyes were screwed shut behind the sunglasses as she concentrated on not being repulsed. He could feel the disgust radiating out from her partially open shields, her emotions causing his fear for her to grow. Breath that wasn’t there came quicker and a heart that didn’t exist beat faster with alarm. She couldn’t do this.

“You _are_ powerful,” Desire said. “I think you’ll do.”

Aziraphale felt himself drop like a Falling angel, spinning dizzily through his own mind like he was tumbling through the air. He could not right himself. He could not stop the nauseating twirl downwards out of the portion of his own mind he had been trapped in. With a painful jolt he felt in every joint, he was back in control of his body, landing gracelessly on the moor face-first. The stems of the local flora left stinging scratches on his face and hands. He pulled his head up, the vertigo still present as he spit heather leaves out of his mouth.

“Get out of her at once!” he demanded, realizing at once exactly how ineffective that sounded coming from someone sprawled comically on the ground.

“I . . . can’t . . .” replied Desire with Crowley’s voice. “What? No!”

Her body crumpled to the ground, a pile of black clothing topped with red hair, twitching in response to the metaphysical fight going on inside of it. Aziraphale scrambled to his feet attempting to get close, but to no avail. He could feel the shield surrounding Crowley’s body as he reached out for her. Pulling back, he did the only thing he could do now and crouched there beside her, waiting.


	5. The Serpent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley fights to keep Desire from taking over her body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. Thank you for all the love and support! You've all made this mini-bang the best experience.

Desire was an intruder with its foot jammed in the door. Crowley was the frantic homeowner trying desperately to keep that intruder out. She was fighting to completely reshield at the same time she was struggling to keep the entity out of her mind, very quickly failing at both. If Plan B didn’t come to her very soon, she’d be possessed and that would be that. The carefully laid shields around her that cut Desire off from getting into her full mind and body would be shredded. It would set up shop then prepare itself to use her powers to do whatever it had to grow stronger. 

She was losing. The metaphorical door was being pried open even as she put every bit of strength into slamming it shut on the laughing glowing ball worming its way in. She grunted in response, feeling her spiritual feet slip as she lost more ground to it. It was now or never. Plan B had better appear very quickly.

_Oh. OH._

Without warning she flung the door completely open, leaving her mind vulnerable to Desire. It barreled its way triumphantly inside, but that was its big mistake. She hadn’t dissolved the shields and was able to slam them shut behind it. (She was momentarily quite proud that they managed to hold together so nicely under such adverse conditions.) It was now cut off from access to her body with a difficult path before it if it wanted to creep into various parts of it to wrest control away from Crowley.

Tightening her grip on the control mechanisms of her mind, Crowley turned them impenetrable with her own fury and she had a lot to be furious about between Desire’s possession of Aziraphale and Hell’s dodgy involvement in this whole mess. She was a brilliant source of angry crimson light now, outshining the soft yellow glow of the ball in front of her.

Instead of going for the mechanisms, Desire directly attacked her spirit, jumping on to her and wrapping her in tendrils of rage-filled energy. It was not going to be denied by her tricks. Taken by surprise, Crowley found herself fighting to stay alive. If she couldn’t get this creature off of her, there was a good chance it would just rip her spirit to shreds. Permanent death was the only thing that awaited her if that happened; the end of her very existence.

Tentacles of energy wrapped around her neck, trying to cut of her life force like she was human. Another tried to bind her arms to her sides and she felt one traveling up from her ankles to keep her legs in place. The anger in her built to the point her own spiritual strength was burning even her as she used it to get her self-image’s right arm free. The tendril fell away, freeing her left as well.

Bending forward, she grasped at the tendrils around her legs, all the while keeping a determinedly tight lock on her mind’s control mechanisms, her spiritual self panting as if it was a physical body. She was tiring and if she tired too much, she was dead. That lit a fire beneath her, making her fight with more anger, more desperation. The tendril around her neck snapped off. She was not going to cease to exist. She rather enjoyed life and besides, she had an angel to take care of. She could not leave Aziraphale alone because given how Heaven treated him; that was akin to leaving a unprotected lamb in the presence of wolves.

That above all fueled Crowley and she snapped the tentacles circling her legs with a feral scream. Desire shot out more, trying to get a better hold, but she broke them before they were able to get a tight hold on any part of her. Finally, she tore completely free, the tendril crawling up her left arm now gone as she yanked her arm away from her body with a burst of angry strength. 

Desire turned an ugly shade of yellow in its fury. Flaring, more tendrils of energy came at Crowley, only to meet with crimson lightening emitting from her form.

“Just you try it!” she screamed furiously, her voice coming out human mixed with the angry hiss of an upset snake. The crimson light flared out, showing Desire her true mental form rather than a vaguely shaped human one. “I will fight until you have no more energy to go on. I have already snapped off quite a large portion of your form. How much are you willing to lose?”

Weary, Desire stared at her, unsure of what was happening. Her idealized form here in her mind was strange, to say the least. It looked upon a red-haired young woman overlaid with the image of a large red-bellied black snake who shared its slit-pupiled golden yellow eyes with her. Something primal hit it when it observed the snake. It recoiled, drawing back with the collective terror of the entire human imagination pounding in its mind. Suddenly its one desire was to be on the other side of that shield away from the creature that humans feared. There was more to that snake than the average specimen found slithering around in the grass.

“What _are_ you?”

“The Serpent.”

“What?”

She walked/slithered closer to the cowering spirit. “I was the first to fulfill someone’s desires. She wanted knowledge and _I_ gave it to her.”

Walking away, Crowley sat down/coiled up in a corner, her golden yellow eyes watching Desire. It was isolated from everything that made it the entity it was. The ball convulsed as it reached out to grasp her thoughts, gaining a small reprieve. They were like a brief rain shower on parched land. Then those precious drops sank away into the ground while no more were forthcoming from skies above.

“You want him,” it rasped. “You love him.”

“I have him,” she replied as she leaned her head against the wall, waiting. “We work within the confines of our situations and I’ve made peace with the rest because we’re both stuck with our respective sides. I will not have him Fall for my sake. There is nothing you can offer me.”

The thing was gasping, dying there inside her mind as the desire that was its life force was cut off from it, leaving it with nothing. She didn’t have much empathy for its situation. It had dared to cause Aziraphale harm; no one did that and received mercy. She sat stone still, patient as the snake she once was while Desire’s light slowly grew dimmer.

It begged her throughout the long hours for mercy. It pleaded to be released out into the world, promising not to take up residence again in Aziraphale’s head. She refused to acknowledge its requests. Nobody took her angel from her even if they promised to return him later.

Finally it collapsed like a small supernova, burning brightly for a moment before disappearing completely. It was over.

Her head collapsing into her hands, Crowley cried in absolute relief. This whole adventure may have only taken a few days’ time but it felt like an eternity of worry and stress had dumped on her. After crying it out, she raised her head once again, dissolving the shield shutting her spirit in a corner of her mind and reconnected fully with her physical body.

“Angel?” She opened her eyes. It was hard to concentrate and she swayed with mental exhaustion as she sat up. “Let’s go . . .” She didn’t stay upright. “. . . home.”

Crowley tumbled into a pile of coils and scales, startling Aziraphale who was still tense from the fight he couldn’t witness. He tenderly lifted her up, feeling how ice-cold she was after hours of lying on the chilly ground with the frigid wind blowing about her. It was a struggle; he had the strength of an angel, but a giant Serpent was an awkward shape to lift. Aziraphale encouraged Crowley to securely wrap around him before he took them, with a snap of his fingers, back to London where they belonged.

~*~*~

_London_

Angels could control their own body temperature, making themselves hotter or colder than would be humanly possible without causing bodily damage. Right now Aziraphale, who would have been deadly feverish if human, was bundled up in Crowley’s bed, stripped down to nothing with Crowley in snake form lying wrapped around his body for the best skin-on-skin contact possible. Crowley was dozing in a torpid state, slowly warming up while Aziraphale sat propped up by every fluffy pillow he could find reading one of the books he kept stashed in the flat. 

Aziraphale had read through a good portion of his book by the time Crowley finally stirred, the snake shape rippling away to reveal an unclothed human form whose limbs still remained tightly wrapped around Aziraphale. Putting down his book to stroke Crowley’s red hair, Aziraphale smiled adoringly at the tranquil golden eyes that regarded him hazily.

“Welcome back, my dear. You gave me quite a fright, especially with that form change.”

“Mmm, necessary. Easier to recuperate after that mental fight.” Crowley sleepily curled in even closer, a feat Aziraphale didn’t even think possible. “I used a lot of energy to keep my mind my own.”

“Will you fill me in on the details?”

“Later. Happy right here, now. But Desire is not coming back.”

“Well, that’s a good thing.” Aziraphale paused, fidgeting a minute amount as he stroked Crowley’s hair softly. “It knew everything about me . . . And it told you.”

“Yeah. And?” Crowley was relaxed, lulled into a peaceful mood by Aziraphale’s warmth. 

“You knew then?”

“Knew what? That you love me? I’ve known that a long time, angel. I just kept silent about it because it wasn’t an issue you were ready to face yet.”

“Well . . .” Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably. “But now _I_ know that _you_ know and it seems awkward.”

“You’re going to get annoying, aren’t you? Please don’t get annoying.” He slithered up his angel to plant tender kisses on his lips. “We dance a delicate dance. I’m aware of that. It’s what we have to do given we’re on opposite sides.” 

“But I felt jealousy. We can’t _be_ on such a level with each other.”

“It happens. We _are_ on such a level and I realize that can cause trouble sometimes. You gave that thing a nice big entrance when you got all caught up in negative emotions,” replied Crowley, still sounding sleepy. “I tempt, Aziraphale. I have to get the job done or face punishment, like you do with your good deeds. Sometimes my job involves flirting because that’s what I’ve been ordered to do and sometimes it’s a last resort to avoid the consequences of failure. It doesn’t mean anything because I’m yours. I promise I don’t do it to hurt you. I would _never_ deliberately do anything to hurt you. Now how are we having sex? Are you happy with what I have between my legs or should I change to something different?” 

Aziraphale broke into a fond smile at Crowley’s last comments, knowing that his questions meant he was asking if Aziraphale was in the mood to go further. “This is fine, my dear. I don’t care what you’re sporting. I just love it’s you.”

Crowley’s kissing became more insistent with his long tongue sliding into Aziraphale’s mouth. Aziraphale responded in kind, darting his own delicately past Crowley’s lips. Crowley’s hands were roaming Aziraphale’s body as if for the first time. Aziraphale clung to Crowley’s shoulders as if he would lose him by letting go. Reassurance . . . comfort . . . they needed to feel both after the events of the past few days. Both had feared that they would never be able to love each other again, except from a distance and as a memory. 

It was beautiful this time, unmarred by jealousy. There was no rush. They were not in some hotel room somewhere stealing a moment together during assignments before one side or the other noticed. They could afford to take their time. Running his hands through golden curls one more time, Crowley laid Aziraphale down on the bed, kissing along his chest. He placed his head there momentarily. Something about the sounds of such unnecessary functions as Aziraphale’s breathing and heartbeat were particularly comforting after seeing Desire possess him.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he whispered. “No matter what, stay by my side.”

“I’ll try,” replied Aziraphale softly, his body shifting uneasily under Crowley's embrace. “You know I can’t make promises.”

Crowley’s mood fell ever-so-slightly as the disappointment settled on him. If wishes were Bentleys, then beggars would drive . . .

“No. I suppose you can’t.”

He brushed it aside along with his bruised ego, concentrating instead on what they had here and now. He resumed seducing Aziraphale, laying kisses on his sensitive collarbones while his fingertips brushed over the soft fuzz on his chest. 

Aziraphale’s arms came up to encircle him. He traced over the erogenous areas Crowley had near his shoulder blades, an action he knew would threaten to increase Crowley’s yearning. Crowley purred gently in response as he kissed Aziraphale’s soft skin, working his way back up to his lips. Aziraphale chuckled softly to himself. Who would have thought a seemingly mundane body part could invoke such erotic reactions? 

Crowley parted Aziraphale’s thighs, looking questioningly at him. Aziraphale responded simply by canting his hips upward in invitation to Crowley. Carefully Crowley pushed into his body as his golden yellow eyes met Aziraphale’s light blue ones, strengthening the connection between them. He reached up to tenderly push a blond lock out off his angel’s forehead, leaving a kiss in its place. Crowley took it slow and sensuous, devoting himself to showing Aziraphale how much he loved him.

“Is something wrong, my dear?” asked Aziraphale as he let up temporarily on the kisses he was placing along Crowley’s jawline.

“No. I just want us to _really_ enjoy this.”

And they did. Crowley built up the sensuous pleasure gently, determined to keep it to smoldering as long as he could before the flames took them both, bringing everything to a regrettable yet gratifying end. He tasted Aziraphale’s skin, licking along his neckline. He listened to him make such wonderful noises as he twisted with desire beneath him. Yes, Crowley thought. This felt too good to rush. 

In his mind, Aziraphale was thinking almost the same thoughts as his conflicted emotional state from earlier evaporated and he started to believe they could make this work on a deeper level now that all his feelings were out in the open. With a soft moan, he scratched Crowley's back leaving a trail of sensual pressure behind as his fingernails worked downward. He smiled to see Crowley’s eyes roll upwards as he panted in response to Aziraphale’s loving touch.

Their dance seemed all too short after they had almost lost each other and they eventually climaxed lovingly together. Aziraphale smiled affectionately and sadly up at his partner, just as reluctant to let go as Crowley was. Crowley dropped down off his hands onto the bed, pulling Aziraphale in so his back lay against Crowley’s chest as if he was protecting Aziraphale. The whole incident had shaken Crowley to the core. If Aziraphale was honest with himself, it had given him quite the scare as well. He shifted, pushing his arse up against Crowley’s hips, wanting to wiggle himself as close as possible to his protector. He sighed, feeling safe here in Crowley’s arms. Nothing would harm him as long as he could stay right here.

They lay together in Crowley’s bed, watching a late appearing moon rise through the bedroom window. 

“I suppose we’d better get up now.” Crowley stirred after an infinity of tender cuddles. He ran a finger across Aziraphale’s chest, reaching over to kiss him just a bit possessively. He wished he didn’t have to share Aziraphale with Heaven and he also regretted that Aziraphale had to share him with Hell.

“Yes, unfortunately. I need to get back to the bookshop and report in.” He traced along Crowley’s well-defined cheekbone, smiling tenderly at him before placing a few last minute kisses on his lips.

“I kind of have to get back to Hastur on the whole Desire thing. Let him know I took care of the problem.”

It took effort to finally pry themselves out of that bed, but they finally managed to rise and fetch their clothes. 

Aziraphale looked hopefully towards Crowley as they dressed. He walked over to button up Crowley’s grey shirt for him. “Neither of those things should take too long. Um, while it is rather late . . . ok, more like early morning now . . . and the Ritz isn’t open, how about coming over in an hour or so for a drink instead?”

Crowley’s heart rose at such words. Oftentimes Aziraphale disappeared for days after sex, like he needed to reconcile his emotions with his actions. Was he finally making some progress towards completely accepting his feelings after all this?

“Sure, angel. Give me an hour and I’ll be over.” 

They continued helping each other get clothes back on after which Crowley walked Aziraphale to the door. Aziraphale shyly took Crowley’s hands in his own and they gazed upon each other with a new appreciation for their relationship. Finally Crowley broke the spell to straighten his angel’s tartan bowtie. Knowing they had to part ways for now, he opened the door. 

“Let’s get this over with so I can come by,” he said with a kiss that lasted until Aziraphale pulled away.

“I’ll be waiting.” Aziraphale’s parting response was almost giddy.

Closing the door behind him, Crowley walked on light feet to the living room to make the needed call to Hastur. Even having to talk to a surly Duke of Hell wouldn’t ruin his night. Finishing up the call, he had time to spare before he left for the bookshop. While he put on his jacket and straightened his hair, he pondered if he should conjure up some flowers and chocolates. He would have bought some on the way had the hour not been so late and the shops closed. Making his decision, he stepped out to the Bentley which he had miracled back from Boston after he finished contacting Hastur.

Back at his bookshop, Aziraphale moved aside a worn circular rug to uncover his communication circle and performed the incantation necessary to contact Gabriel, who seemed glad to hear from him and asked for a full account of his mission in Boston. He obviously would omit the whole incident involving Desire. Maybe Crowley would have some ideas what he could put instead.

Oh, yes . . . Crowley. With a smile for his absent lover, Aziraphale made some preparations for his arrival. Looking at the items he put on the coffee table and straightening the blankets on the couch, he nodded to himself, satisfied it was all ready.

Nearly an hour after he left the flat, Aziraphale opened the door to find a dashing Crowley standing before him, a bundle of flowers in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other. Giving him a delighted smile, he took the gifts with gracious thanks then gestured for him to come inside. Crowley could see a bottle of champagne chilling on the coffee table in Aziraphale’s homey office the moment he stepped into the bookshop’s entrance. Two champagne flutes sat beside it.

“Hello, my dear.” Aziraphale leaned forward to lovingly welcome him over with a passionate kiss before they retired to the office’s couch to celebrate the night away. 


End file.
